Dean stared at you like you’d just told him you were marrying Crowley. "You did what?" You winced, gripping your coffee cup like it might protect you. "Okay, before you freak out—" "Oh, sweetheart, I am way past freaking out," Dean cut in, throwing his hands up. "You told the feds we’re engaged? As in, you and me? Ring, vows, ‘til death do us not part?" You sighed. "I panicked!" "And my name was the first one that popped into your head?" "I don’t know, Dean, maybe because I see your dumb face every day?" Dean huffed, crossing his arms. "Well, un-panic. Fix it." "If I back out now, they’ll think I lied and deport me. I just need you to go along with it for three days. That’s it." Dean let out a dry laugh. "Three days? You really think I can pretend to be some whipped fiancé for three days?" You folded your arms. "Come on, you fake being an FBI agent all the time. This is the same thing, just with more…hand-holding. And, uh…maybe a kiss. Or two." "Kissing?" He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh, hell no."